Читать книгу Held by Chinese Brigands - Gilson Charles - Страница 9

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Neither the judge nor Mr Waldron desired so much as ten minutes in which to arrive at a decision. Twenty thousand dollars is by no means an impossible sum to a man who is a millionaire. Even the judge himself would have found little difficulty in producing the money with a few days' notice.

Cheong-Chau, and even Yung How, who was more conversant with the manners and customs of Europeans, had underestimated the wealth of Mr Waldron. To them twenty thousand dollars represented almost fabulous wealth. It never occurred to them that they might have asked twice as much, and secured it with no greater difficulty; for we meet the real miser more in fiction and in fable than in real life, and there are few men who will not part readily with the whole of their fortune in exchange for the most valuable of all human possessions: life, the right to walk upon the face of the earth, to breathe the air of heaven.

Cheong-Chau re-entered the cave, holding in the palm of his hand the gold watch he had stolen from Mr Waldron.

"Ten minutes," said he. "I trust you are ready with your answer."

Men-Ching stood at his side, and behind his back was a score of his ruffians, each man with a naked sword.

"We have considered your proposal," said the judge, "and we agree to it." He spoke the Cantonese language with difficulty, and his pronunciation was faulty. However, there is little doubt that Cheong-Chau understood him, for the man nodded his head with an air of satisfaction.

"You are wise," said he. "Rumour has not lied."

"One moment," said Sir Thomas, taking him up. "There is one question we would ask you. If the money is sent from Hong-Kong, and taken in safety to your hiding-place, what guarantee do you propose to give us that you will set us at liberty or even spare our lives?"

"How would I gain by killing you?" asked the bandit, with a shrug of his narrow shoulders.

"I have lived in China," said the judge, "for more than thirty years. I know that there are men in this country--and I see no reason why you should not be numbered amongst them--to whom murder is a pastime, who kill for the sake of killing, who derive a fiendish pleasure from torturing the innocent."

Cheong-Chau carried a hand to his face and stroked his wrinkled chin.

"I see that you are prudent," said he. "For myself, I never bargain with fools."

"Do you mean," asked the judge, "if the conditions are fulfilled on our part, you will guarantee our safety?"

"I mean no such thing," said Cheong-Chau. "I guarantee nothing."

"Then we have naught to rely upon," the judge answered, "but your oath--the oath of a robber?"

"That is so," said the other.

"And may I ask," said the judge, "how much Cheong-Chau reverences the Five Sacred Books?"

The Chinese answered nothing, but stretched forth a hand, and deliberately snapped his fingers.

Sir Thomas shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

"We must make the best of a bad business," said he to Mr Waldron. "I tell you frankly, I don't trust these men. I know what such scoundrels are."

He spoke in English, and whilst he did so was conscious of a gentle touch upon the shoulder. He turned and beheld Men-Ching, who presented him with a brass Chinese ink-box, a large piece of rice-paper and a writing-brush. "Write your letter," said the old man, "to the English Viceroy of Hong-Kong. Tell him that the sum of twenty thousand dollars, in silver, must be hidden under the red stone in the Glade of Children's Tears, before the waning of the moon."

"Where is this place?" asked Sir Thomas.

"On the Sang-kiang, five Chinese li to the north of the city of Canton. A narrow path leads due north from the Five-Storied Pagoda. This path crosses the hills and descends into the valley of the Sang River--a very beauteous place."

"Are they long li?" asked Sir Thomas, understanding well the vagueness of all Chinese measurements, "or short li?"

"They are short li," answered Men-Ching, "for the road runs up-hill until you come to the last li, where the traveller descends into a wide valley of ricefields and fruit trees, li-chi and mango. In the Sang valley there is a tall tower, from the top of which, in days gone by, fathers were wont to throw the she-children they could not afford to keep. A woman child is no use in the world. From the day of her birth to the day of her death she does little else but talk. On the west side of the tower is a small wood, and in the centre of this wood is a glade where the birds sing in summer-time, whilst the water of the river makes sweet and pleasant music. In the glade are rocks; but in one place there is a great red stone, almost round. Two strong men can roll it away from the place where it is; but they must use all their strength. And when the red stone is rolled away, it will be seen that it rests upon a great hole in the ground. It is like the lid of a kettle. Inside this hole there is room enough for twenty thousand dollars."

The judge had listened intently, committing each detail to memory. A little after, Men-Ching left the cave, and the three white men found themselves together. Sir Thomas turned to his nephew.

"Did you hear what the rascal said, Frank?" he asked.

"Every word," replied the boy.

"And you remember it all?"

Frank nodded.

"Then," said the judge, "help me to write this letter. It will be by no means easy to write. I shall have to explain matters very clearly to Sir John, and I've got to write it with a brush."

In the temple they had been deprived of their pencils and notebooks, and everything else their pockets contained, and these had not been brought by Cheong-Chau to the cave. Otherwise Sir Thomas might have asked for his own fountain pen. As it was, he was now obliged to write in English characters with a Chinese brush, and this was a tedious business. In the end, however, the letter was written, covering in all five pages of Chinese rice-paper, in shape longer than foolscap, but not so broad.

Sir Thomas had written fully. He had explained where and by whom they had been captured; he even went so far as to give the name of the bandit chieftain and to relate how he had been betrayed by his own personal servant, Yung How. He said that he had not the slightest doubt that, if the rascals were not paid in full upon the stroke of time, the three of them would be ruthlessly put to death. He ended the letter by explaining the exact whereabouts of the "Glade of Children's Tears," describing the red stone beneath which the ransom money was to be hidden. He also expressed the opinion that it would be useless to endeavour to capture the brigands in the neighbourhood of the glade itself, and he strongly advised the Governor not to attempt to lay an ambush. He pointed out that such a plan would most assuredly fail, since the Chinese were sure to exercise the utmost caution, and to have spies in the neighbourhood. Moreover, the discovery of such a plan would undoubtedly lead to the immediate death of Sir Thomas himself and his companions. It would be time enough to think of reprisals, of taking steps to track down the brigands, after the judge and his party had returned safely to the island.

As the judge wrote, aided by the flickering light of a torch, Frank and Mr Waldron looked over his shoulder, each offering occasional suggestions.

"Do I understand," asked Mr Waldron, "that you don't trust these fellows?"

"I am afraid I am very far from trusting them," replied the judge. "Men of this type, in this mysterious, savage country, are as often as not without honour, cruel beyond description, and incapable of showing mercy. Moreover, in moments of delight--I know for a fact--they are capable of committing the most terrible atrocities. I don't wish to alarm you unnecessarily, Mr Waldron, but I tell you honestly that I fear the future. Sir John will send the money, provided the letter reaches him in safety--which I have no doubt it will. But once the money is in Cheong-Chau's possession, it is quite possible he will kill us, out of sheer devilry, in the moment of his triumph."

Mr Waldron thrust his hands into his trousers pockets, and shaped his lips as if he desired to whistle. No sound, however, came from his lips. He paced backwards and forwards in the cave like a wild beast that is hungry. For all that, upon his clear-cut, regular features there was no sign of apprehension. His manner suggested impatience more than fear.

"It's just cruel luck," said he, as though he were speaking to himself. "Guess I can't look upon it in any other light. Why did I leave Paradise City!"

"There's not much paradise about this," said Frank, taking in his hand a burnt stick and stirring the embers of the fire. A flame sprang forth that illumined the rugged walls of the cave. Here and there upon the hard rock were narrow, streaky grooves, where the moisture had trickled down.

"We're helpless," Mr Waldron burst out, "helpless as the little children these fiends used to throw from the top of that tower. That's what gets me on the raw, Judge. I never before felt helpless. In the course of my life, I have found myself in a great many awkward places; but I have always been able to see a way out and I have made good in the end. This thing's different. Hennessy K. Waldron may be a great man in the state of Nevada; but in this blamed country I guess he don't count more than a copper cash."

And Mr Hennessy K. Waldron was about right--a copper cash, in the coinage of China, having the approximate value of the fifth part of a farthing.